


O Holy Night

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bittersweet, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Hymns, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Aziraphale didn't expect to stumble across Crowley outside a church on Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106





	O Holy Night

The holiday season was always an interesting time for Aziraphale. Through the millennia, across almost every culture, humans came together in the small hours of winter and celebrated. They created light in the darkness and remembered.

Aziraphale carried many more memories than the average human. He stood in the back of a church, basking in the love and the candlelight, but seeing the man he had watched die at Golgotha in the infant of the nativity. 

Stirring himself, he slipped out the back as they started up their last few hymns, the strains of “O Holy Night” following him into the vestibule and out a side door. What he did not expect was to stumble nearly literally into an all too familiar demon standing in the shadows of the church.

Crowley took a step back, opened his mouth, closed it again, then shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away, not running, exactly, but faster than his usual saunter.

“Wait,” called Aziraphale, hurrying to catch up to him.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” said Crowley defensively.

“I never said you were.” Aziraphale reached out to catch his arm and stop his scurrying away.

Crowley flinched as if expecting a blow. Aziraphale’s heart broke. Crowley knew him better than anyone, and yet, even here and now, he anticipated the worst.

“Crowley,” he said softly, letting go of him.

The demon looked away but didn’t try to take off again. “I was just listening.”

“It is beautiful,” agreed Aziraphale. “You’ve always had an ear for music.”

Crowley shrugged and looked up at the stars, as if remembering a world he’d long since been cast out of. Catching himself, he adjusted his glasses. “Care to join me for a drink?”

“Come back to the bookshop,” said Aziraphale.

“Alright,” Crowley shrugged.

They made their way through quiet Christmas streets. The hour was late and the few people they passed spoke in hushed tones, carrying a spark of the divine with them that they could only rarely see.

The door opened at Aziraphale’s touch. Crowley relaxed as he followed him inside, snapping his fingers to light the fire in the hearth. Aziraphale smiled fondly as Crowley made himself comfortable on the sofa, hesitating, then taking off his glasses, though he still averted his gaze.

Aziraphale poured them each a glass of wine, then left the bottle on the table. Crowley sipped his drink, letting the silence stretch out.

Leaving him to his thoughts, Aziraphale got comfortable in his own chair. Crowley would speak when he was ready, or he wouldn’t. He was as comfortable in Crowley’s silences as his monologues. This bookshop wasn’t as holy as a church (good thing, too or else it would be miserable for Crowley to enter), but it was their sanctuary.

“I didn’t know you attended church,” said Crowley at last, finishing off his first glass of wine and reaching out to fill it again.

“Not regularly. But I do enjoy some of the rituals and traditions. I generally try to rotate among different faiths.”

Crowley nodded. “I just listen, sometimes. Not, anything I do regularly of course. That would be ridiculous, a demon attending church.”

Aziraphale sipped his wine to try and avoid smiling. Most demons, of course it would be ridiculous. But Crowley had never been most anyone.

“Do you have any plans for the morning?” asked Aziraphale.

“Naw, most humans are busy with one thing or another. The day after that though, well, business as usual, I suppose.”

“I’m sure there is plenty of tempting to get up to with the new year.”

Crowley smirked. “They make it easy, what with those resolutions and things.”

“I’m certain. I’ll probably be assigned some blessings in the next few days as well.”

“Let me know if you need anything with the Arrangement. I know it’s not always easy for you to get out of town.” Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, then away again.

“I will.”

Crowley nodded and finished his glass, putting it down. “I suppose I should go,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You don’t have to,” said Aziraphale quickly.

Crowley picked up his glasses and slipped them back on. “I should,” he repeated.

Aziraphale opened his mouth and closed it again, knowing how stubborn Crowley could be. “If you insist,” he said, shoulders sagging.

Crowley hesitated, “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

“Merry Christmas,” said Aziraphale quietly.

Crowley looked at him a moment longer, eyes hidden by the dark glasses, words unspoken heavy between them. Then he turned on his heel and let himself out.

Aziraphale topped off his glass and sunk back into his chair. Maybe one day Crowley would stay. But that wasn’t today’s Christmas miracle. He looked into the fire a moment, then closed his eyes, feeling the lingering traces of love in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to beltainefaire for reading it over. You can find me mostly on Twitter these days at merindab.


End file.
